in black and gold six-inch-high letters.
And by the cluster of women around the entrance.
Sleek, shiny women. Of all ages. Jostling to get into the house.
The kind of women who were accustomed to the January sales and came supplied with sharp elbows and stiletto heels. And his shin pads were back in New York. This was more than dangerous—this could be lethal!
Jared instinctively touched Amy on the arm as she removed her seatbelt.
‘No way are you giving those ladies extra sugar. You’d never make it back alive.’
Amy collapsed back into the luxurious seat and glared at the increasingly noisy crowd. Several more cars had pulled up behind them, ready to discharge extra troops.
‘You may have a point. Frank? Any ideas?’
‘Retreat to a safe point and come back Monday, when these girls have gone home to complain to their hairdressers?’
‘Not possible.’ Jared interrupted before Amy could reply. ‘Lucy is due to be married in seven days? Monday will not do. You two stay here. I’ll see how far I can get.’
This time it was Amy who grabbed Jared’s arm, as he tugged on the cuffs of his shirt.
‘Hold on, macho hero. Those girls would eat you alive. You do know that it’s always the bloke’s fault, don’t you? This bridegroom who stole Clarissa from them is clearly to blame for the whole thing. You’d have to be pregnant and barefoot to get to the front of that queue!’
Jared sat back and pursed his lips together for a few seconds as he looked at Amy, from her flat comfortable shoes to the top of her head, before nodding slowly.
‘Pregnant and barefoot. Hmm. That’s not a bad idea. It might just work…’
Amy caught the tone in Jared’s voice, and watched as he patted the picnic blanket she was sitting on before speaking.
‘I’m almost frightened to ask,’ she said, watching him closely.
‘Frank? Do you have any cushions in the back?’ Jared asked, totally ignoring her comment.
‘Of course, mate.’
‘Excellent. Miss Edler—I do realise that we have only just met, but we are about to become proud expectant parents. Won’t that be nice?’
She stared at him with wide-eyed horror as she realised what his idea was.
‘You wouldn’t?’
The man sitting next to her simply turned towards her and gave a wide smile, raising his eyebrows.
It was the first time he had smiled since they’d met—and, oh, yes, she could see why any girl in a fifty metre radius would instantly agree to anything he suggested.
Amy closed her eyes. She had promised Lucy she would do everything she could to help with the wedding while her mother recovered from the ’flu.
And of course there was that other reason it had to be a huge success…
This might be the first wedding cake Amy had ever made, but it was not going to be the last. Clarissa had already contacted her about other weddings later in the year, and she knew Lucy had been telling all her London friends. She already had orders for eight more chocolate special cakes—but only if this wedding was the success she desperately wanted for Lucy and Mike.
She needed that business.
She needed her friends to have a wonderful day.
She needed that wedding plan.
Which was why she suddenly heard herself asking, ‘How many cushions? One or two?’
Jared took his time climbing out of one side of the car and making his way around the rear to open the passenger door for Amy, so that she could start her award winning performance.
He made a show of making a slight bow, so she accepted his hand as if she was stepping out in evening dress onto the red carpet at a film premiere. Only on this occasion she was wearing navy check trousers splattered with icing, and a stained extra-large navy T-shirt stretched over two pillows and a picnic blanket. But she was still determined to give the role her all.
It wasn’t her fault that her performance required Jared to wrap one arm protectively around where her middle should be, which somehow distracted her so much that she was swept up the steps before she knew it. Thereby missing her own big entrance.
Jared helped Amy stagger through into a narrow corridor packed with anxious and crying women who had jumped to their feet as one, each female fighting to make her voice heard, competing in decibels and speed to get attention. Any attention.
The noise was deafening.
Amy squeezed Jared’s hand—a signal to reposition the pillow, which was starting to bulge over her trousers—before stretching up to whisper in his ear.
‘Let’s make a deal. If I can persuade Elspeth to give me the box, then I will allow you to help with the wedding. But only on one condition. You do the work yourself. Not your PA, not your events planner, not your brilliant admin team. You. Or is the great Jared Shaw scared of getting his hands dirty?’
She looked up at him with the sweetest, most adoring, open-mouthed smile, complete with fluttering eyelashes for the benefit of the onlookers.
‘Do we have a deal? Squeeze once for yes, and twice for no.’
Jared tightened his grip on Amy’s waist. The way back to the car was already blocked by a formidable-looking older woman and a younger weeping girl.
There was no backing out.
He squeezed. Once.
Still clutching Jared’s hand, Amy dragged him towards the flustered-looking receptionist’s desk. The pillows and picnic blanket had created a surprisingly effective eight-month baby bump.
‘Hi. I’ve heard about Clarissa’s unplanned holiday.’ Amy addressed the girl behind the desk, glancing around the room, taking in the tears and the emotional tension, until every other woman stopped talking.
‘My fiancé and I have our wedding next weekend.’ She looked at the stunned Jared and gave him her most adoring smile. ‘This is our last chance before little Jarella is born, so I hope you understand that I have an urgent appointment in—’ she glanced at her watch ‘—three minutes.’
Before the receptionist could answer, Amy leant backwards and shuffled up to the office door, drawing a red-faced Jared with her. She knocked once, did not wait for an answer, flung open the door, and then closed it behind them.
A slim, middle-aged woman in a tight pink bouclé suit was crouched down low, her elbows resting on a pink desk. Her head was in her hands, and the desk was covered with yellow sticky notes. A loose telephone lead trailed from her finger. Disconnected. There was a bottle of cream sherry and a small glass by her hand. And not much sherry left in the bottle.
‘Hello,
